


Brooklyn: A Love Story

by Brenda



Series: Off The Record [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Original Character(s), Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"But I made a promise to the cast and the crew and to Darcy that if the film got nominated for any Oscars, I'd come to the ceremony."  He half-turned to give Bucky a small, tremulous smile.  "Promised you, too, Buck."</i>
</p><p>  <i>Bucky's fingers were light when he reached up with his free hand to brush a few strands of Steve's hair from his forehead.  "I was just looking for an excuse to get you back in a tux, babe."</i></p><p>  <i>Steve chuckled, and a little of the nervousness disappeared.  Bucky always knew just what to say to him to get him to relax before the panic attacks could start in earnest.  "Swear you won't leave me alone."</i></p><p>  <i>"Not for a second," Bucky vowed, and leaned in for a short, sweet kiss.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Brooklyn: A Love Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stephrc79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/gifts).



> Birthday fic for the lovely and amazing Steph, because I promised her another fic in this series, and eventually, I do keep them. <3333

Principal Grace Lindsey liked to think she was pretty good at her job. That she still maintained some of her initial optimistic enthusiasm for helping kids, for creating opportunities for students to learn and thrive. And maybe she hadn't been an actual teacher all that long, but she still considered herself to be their voice when it came to what they needed to create an ideal educational environment. She was a firm believer in an open door policy for everyone: from faculty to parents to students, no request or complaint or idea was too grandiose or too small. And maybe her methods were a little unorthodox, and maybe some of her tactics drove the school board nuts, but she had a great retention rate at her school, and her kids were well-prepared for the demands of middle and high school, so that was all that mattered.

She tried to learn the names of all the kids under her care – no small feat, considering there were well over 500 students – but there were a few who stood out more so than others. Who made a bigger impression for one reason or another. Which is why Grace noticed when little Steven Grant was sitting all by himself in the cafeteria during lunch.

Because, ever since his first day of kindergarten, if Steven Grant was anywhere to be seen, it was a sure bet that James Barnes would be right by his side.

Today, however, Steven was all alone at a table, his feet kicking restlessly under his chair, as he picked listlessly at his sandwich. Grace tried to recall the absentee list for the day, but she didn't remember Barnes' name being on it. Normally, it was the other way around, with poor Steven having to stay home with one ailment or another, and James going around from class to class collecting Steven's assignments and homework for the day.

She stopped at Steven's table, put her best and most welcoming smile on her face. "Hi there, Steven."

Large blue eyes, framed by thick black-rimmed glasses, blinked up at her in shock. "G-good morning, Ms. Lindsey. Am...am I in trouble for somethin'?"

"I don't think so. Not unless you've been disrupting class again." Steven was a very outspoken advocate of fairness, which was commendable except when it affected the ability of the teachers to control the classroom. Something she could certainly sympathize with, even though her own teaching days had been at the high school, not elementary school, level.

"No ma'am." Steven shook his head, his mop of messy blond hair falling across his forehead. "I promise."

"I believe you." She gestured at the chair next to him. "You mind if I sit for a minute?"

He shook his head, but kept looking at her out of wary eyes, and continued picking at the crust of his sandwich. "Is...is everything okay with my mom, Ms. Lindsey?" he asked, his breath coming out in a series of short wheezes.

"Oh, honey, no, everything's fine. Your mom is just fine, I promise." She laid a soothing hand over his, tempered her voice to match. "Where's your inhaler? Do you need it?"

He pointed at his backpack with his free hand, but shook his head. "I'm...I'm okay."

"Okay, good." But she continued to watch him closely. He'd already missed a fair amount of classes this semester due to his respiratory issues. "I only sat down to ask you where James is today. I didn't see his name on the absentee list."

"Oh." Steven's gaze dropped to his sandwich. His thin shoulders drooped like a wilting flower. "He's sitting with Timmy and Gil at their table today."

"I see." Grace looked around the cafeteria and, sure enough, there was James, flanked by Timothy Dugan and Gil Hodges and their friends. Not at all James' usual crowd. "Is there a reason you're not sitting with them?"

Steven shrugged, his gaze flickering to the other table, hurt and longing all but radiating from his small body. "Wasn't invited," he mumbled, and shoved his sandwich away from himself.

"That is a shame." More than a shame, it was very unfortunate. Steven didn't seem to have much in the way of friends other than James, and if there was a tiff between them, maybe she could do something to help. She was excellent at mediation, after all. "Well, I tell you what. Why don't _I_ invite you and James and Timothy and Gil into my office instead, and we'll all have lunch together."

Steve's eyes widened to almost comical levels. "You want usta have lunch with _you_?"

"Absolutely." She patted his hand and stood. "Gather your things and let them know to bring their lunches with them. We'll meet in, say, five minutes?"

He jerked his gaze from her to the table, then back, his face even paler than usual. "You want _me_ to tell them?"

"Of course. James is still your friend, isn't he? I'm sure he'll be happy to talk to you." Maybe all they really needed was a gentle nudge in the right direction. "Five minutes."

She strode out of the cafeteria and down the hallway, confident she could negotiate through whatever rift had sprung up between the two friends. After all, she'd successfully argued for a pay increase across the board for her teachers just last fall. Resolving a simple student on student disagreement should be a cinch.

Exactly five minutes later, there was a knock on her office door, and her assistant poked her head inside. "Ms. Lindsey, the Grant boy is here with the Barnes boy and Tim Dugan and Gil Hodges. They say they're here to have lunch with you?"

"Perfect, send them in." She set her hands on her desk with a smile as the four boys shuffled in, all of them clutching their backpacks and lunch boxes, and all with their heads hanging almost to their chests. They had the aura of condemned prisoners being sentenced. Grace noticed that Steven and James each took the furthest seat from the other, putting Timothy and Gil between them.

Curiouser and curiouser.

"Boys," she greeted, "thank you for joining me."

"Yes ma'am," they all replied, more or less in unison. Steven had already angled his chair slightly so there was more distance between him and the others. He was clutching both his backpack and lunchbox to his thin chest like a lifeline.

James' gaze drifted ever-so-briefly over to Steven, then he jerked his head Grace's way. "Are we in trouble, Ms. Lindsey?"

"Not at all." She picked up the fork to her salad and gave each of them another smile. "I thought I'd simply gather you all in here to see if maybe we could get to the bottom of what's going on with you boys."

"Ma'am?" Timothy asked, nose scrunching in confusion.

"Well, Steven here said that he wasn't invited to sit at your table for lunch today –" Steven curled even further into himself "– and, given how close he's been with you, James, since you both started kindergarten, I was wondering if something had happened, and how I could help."

Gil let out an inelegant snort. "He finally wizened up's what happened. Ma'am," he hastily added, when she arched an eyebrow.

"Please," she said, waving a hand his way, "elaborate."

"Well, um, the thing is..." Gil glanced Timothy's way, then straightened in his seat. "See, it's like this. Bucky over here, he's...well, he's _normal_."

"A regular guy, y'know," Timothy supplied. "The kind you want on the kickball or dodgeball team or pick-up games in the neighborhood."

Grace noticed James himself was frowning at these compliments, but so far, he was keeping silent. Steven, for his part, had uncurled himself and was sitting straight up in his chair, his spine so stiff he looked carved from marble. But even behind the thickness of his glasses, Grace could see the telltale sheen of unshed tears.

"But he's not doin' himself any favors," Gil continued, emboldened now, perhaps by the fact that no one had stopped him yet. "Always makin' all these excuses not to hang out, sayin' he can't play ball after school or go to the park to play because it wouldn't be fair to Skin'n'Bones Steve over –"

Steven flinched, but he kept his face stoic and unmoving. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hodges," Grace interrupted, "what was that you called Steven?"

"– sorry, ma'am," Gil said, chastened, even though it was clear he'd known exactly what he was doing. "But what about what's fair to Bucky, huh? Is it fair he's not allowed to be outside and have fun and play sports 'cause his _best friend_ –" he used air quotes as emphasis "– is a walkin' health disaster?"

"He's _not_ a disaster."

Four sets of eyes swung in James Barnes' direction. Steven's, in particular, were round with shock behind his glasses.

James jutted his chin out, but Grace noticed both his hands were clenched into fists on his lap. "Stevie's the best person I know. He's worth tena you, Gil."

Gil let out another snort. "You kiddin' me? He can't even _breathe_ right, Buck –"

" _Don't_ call me that." Wild, furious blue eyes whipped Gil's way. "Only my friends get to call me that. You're _not_ my friend."

"Buck..." Steven's mouth was pulled into a sad frown. "You don't gotta defend me, alright. I know...it's okay if you wanna be around...normal kids."

"No, that's –" James swallowed, and bit nervously at his lower lip. "I don't wanna hang out with these goons –"

"Hey!" Timothy and Gil exclaimed.

James ignored them. "The whole time during lunch today I was bored outta my mind, Stevie, I swear. I don't know why I even said yes –"

"Yeah, you do," Steven said, very softly, but to his credit, he met James' gaze head on.

James held the gaze for a few beats, then his own shoulders drooped. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I do. But you know I didn't mean...it was _stupid_ , okay. I don't know what I was thinkin'."

Steven shrugged like what they were talking about was no big deal (when Grace had the distinct impression whatever it was had happened had been a big deal indeed), but a little of the color seemed to return to his cheeks. "S'okay, Buck."

"No, it's _not_ ," James insisted. "You're my _best_ friend, Stevie. My best friend _ever_. And if you're not good enough for some people to hang out with, then neither am I."

It was hard to look at the wary hope creeping onto Steven's face. "You...you mean that?"

James nodded, then got to his feet and slung his backpack over his shoulder before walking over to Steven. "C'mon," he said, holding out his hand. "Let's go hang out in our usual spot, me'n'you. We don't need anyone else."

Steven peered around James to give Grace a beseeching look. She was quick to nod her assent. Satisfied, Steven grabbed James' hand and let the other boy pull him to his feet. James, for his part, immediately grabbed Steven's backpack and slung it alongside his own. Grace also noticed that they were both still holding hands.

James turned Grace's way. "Thanks, Ms. Lindsey," he said solemnly.

"You're welcome, James," she told him, and watched, along with a dumbfounded Timothy and Gil, as James and Steven walked out of her office, palms clasped tight together.

Satisfied that her plan had worked perfectly, Grace picked up her fork again, and eyed the two boys still sitting in front of her. "Well, unless you both truly want word to get around that you were forced to have lunch with the principal, you're free to go."

They couldn't scramble out of their seats fast enough.

***

The crazy, crowded, and very loud red carpet in front of the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood stretched out like a gauntlet, infinitely long and more intimidating than anything Steve could remember in his adult life. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had this mixture of emotions churning through him – part nausea, part terror, all nerves – making his skin feel clammy and his muscles too tight. Not his first professional audition, not the first time he was onstage in front of an audience, not even the night he asked Bucky to marry him. In fact, the only moment that came the closest was that night at Ten Pound, right before he'd walked into the bar to meet with Bucky for the first time in seventeen years.

Beside him in the back of the ridiculously tricked out Lincoln Town Car, Bucky bumped his shoulder against Steve's. "We don't have to do this, you know."

Steve grabbed Bucky's hand in his own. Thumbed at the platinum ring on Bucky's finger, the one he'd slid on three years ago when Bucky had made him the happiest fucking guy on the planet by saying yes. The only time Bucky'd ever taken it off was during their wedding ceremony two years ago, and that was just long enough for them to exchange vows.

"I know," Steve said, looking down at their hands, curled comfortably together, the same perfect fit as always. Some days, it still seemed like a dream Steve was having, and he'd wake up one morning, adrift and alone and aching for something he couldn't even name, the way he'd done every day the years they were separated. But it wasn't a dream – it was real. What he and Bucky had together was as real as it got.

When he looked up, it was to see Bucky smiling at him. That familiar, dimpled smile that crinkled gorgeous blue-grey eyes and softened the sharp lines of an equally gorgeous jaw. Like Steve, Bucky was impeccably decked out in an Armani tux, his dark hair artfully styled, his bowtie perfectly straight. 

But that smile was crooked and playful and decidedly _im_ perfect – that smile was all Bucky, and all Steve's.

"Hey," Bucky told him, "you say the word and I'll get Raul to turn this baby around and take us to the airport. We can be on a flight back to New York inside two hours, tops."

"I know." He did know, that was just it. Knew he was under no obligation, knew no one from the studio or the film or even the other producers would fault him if he pulled a no-show. After all, he'd never come to an Oscars ceremony, or any other awards show. The only premieres he ever attended were those for his own movies, and he never walked the carpet. To date, the only interview he'd ever given had been to Bucky's co-worker Darcy Lewis, and it had been a joint interview with Bucky himself.

So, he knew that he could change his mind, and Bucky would be right there with him. Bucky would back his play and stand by his side, the way he'd done since they were five years old. And it was that knowledge – that certainty – that stayed his hand.

"But I made a promise to the cast and the crew and to Darcy that if the film got nominated for any Oscars, I'd come to the ceremony." He half-turned to give Bucky a small, tremulous smile. "Promised you, too, Buck."

Bucky's fingers were light when he reached up with his free hand to brush a few strands of Steve's hair from his forehead. "I was just looking for an excuse to get you back in a tux, babe."

Steve chuckled, and a little of the nervousness disappeared. Bucky always knew just what to say to him to get him to relax before the panic attacks could start in earnest. "Swear you won't leave me alone."

"Not for a second," Bucky vowed, and leaned in for a short, sweet kiss. "And remember, you don't have to talk to any of the reporters or any press."

"That's part of the point of doing this –"

"– No, the _point_ is celebrating the hard work that you and everyone else did on the film and all the nominations it got."

"Stop being logical, Buck, you're ruining my dramatic moment," Steve replied, with his best actorly sigh.

Bucky snorted out a laugh. "Felt a little rusty to me. Maybe you should slow down the directing and take another acting gig."

"Maybe, if the right role comes along." He wasn't quite ready to formally retire from acting, but now that his Captain America contract was up, he was in no hurry to get in front of the camera again. Being behind it suited him far more these days.

He brushed another kiss across lush lips, then deepened it when Bucky melted against him the way he always did. Five years since that fateful reunion at Ten Pound, and it was still a miracle every time they kissed. 

"You ready to do this?" Bucky asked, once they pulled apart. His mouth was slightly bruised and reddened, and there was a delicate flush to his cheeks. Steve couldn't wait for the night to be over, couldn't wait until he could peel Bucky out of his tux and worship every inch of his body with hands and mouth.

But he nodded anyway. Because he'd promised, and he was tremendously proud of everyone who'd worked so hard on the film, who'd gone above and beyond to bring his and Bucky's story to the big screen. "Ready as I'll ever be," he said, and allowed Bucky to tug him out of the limo, to the shrieks of thousands of fans, and the doubletakes from everyone around them. Steve knew the news that he was here would spread like wildfire, and braced himself accordingly.

They were greeted at the metal detectors by Maria, who gave them both their embossed invitations and seating assignments for inside the Dolby. While she wouldn't be at the ceremony itself, she would be at the Focus Features party afterwards at Chateau Marmont, along with everyone in the cast and crew who hadn't been nominated in their respective categories. But she was at least available to escort them down the carpet and run interference - normally a publicist's job, but Steve didn't have one, so he'd begged her to do it. Steve was pretty sure he was going to owe her a raise for that alone.

It was so loud it was hard to think. Steve wasn't much for rock shows – he was a true introvert at heart – but he imagined the noise was like something one would hear at a 1D or U2 concert. He clutched tight to Bucky's hand after they were wanded and waved, and waited for Maria to join them.

"You look lovely," Bucky told her, brushing an air kiss to her cheek, careful not to smudge her perfectly applied makeup.

"Thanks," she replied, with a flirtatious smile. She was wearing some sparkling navy-blue floor-length sheath, high in the front, but with a vee in the back that dropped daringly low. Her hair was twisted into some simple-looking knot that Steve was sure had probably taken hours to put together, and the flash of diamonds at her throat and ears sparkled even brighter than her dress. If Steve was directing this moment, he'd make sure the camera stayed on her for an extra beat so everyone could appreciate how exceptional she looked.

"I'm amazed Sharon let you out of the house," Steve remarked, after giving her his own kiss.

Maria grinned. "You should see what she's wearing to the party after."

"Can't wait." He really couldn't. 

"Okay," she said, all business as she maneuvered them slightly out of the worst of the crush of people surrounding them. "If you think you're up for it – and only if you think you're up for it – Robin Roberts from ABC and Nancy O'Dell from ET would love to speak with you. My phone's already blowing up with requests from two dozen more outlets –"

"– I can't," Steve interrupted, wrapping his free arm around his waist to try to quell some of the queasiness. "Maria, I –"

"We'll do Robin, and only Robin," Bucky said, and squeezed Steve's hand. "I've met her a few times – when I was doing the press tour for my Spetsnaz book, and at a few charity events in New York. You'll like her, Stevie, I promise."

"I'm sure I would if we met over drinks," Steve replied, after taking a series of slow, deliberate breaths.

Bucky shook his head on a laugh. "I'll be right beside you the whole time."

"You better."

"I want to make a sarcastic remark so badly right now, but you two are so cute I can't even do it," Maria commented, with an indulgent sigh. "Okay, we're going in, stay close and if you want to tap out –"

"We will," Bucky assured her, with a quick look Steve's way.

The noise and press of people got even worse as they made their slow, shuffling way down the carpet. They were besieged on all sides by other celebrities and nominees – Steve had worked with some of them, but there were many more who he knew only by reputation – and by the never-ending line of press and photographers shouting and begging their pleas for an interview – _just one question, Mr. Rogers, please_ – and the fans on the risers, who were going completely nuts. It was a lot to take in.

Steve just waved to the fans and kept his head down, his white-knuckled grip on Bucky's hand getting even tighter with every step. His breath was coming as shallow and short as it had in the days when he'd been an asthmatic kid, and his heart was beating crazy fast, an echo of when he'd had a faulty valve. He kept his focus on the way the platinum band on Bucky's ring finger glinted in the dying light of the sun. On the way his own matching wedding band looked against his finger. Tangible reminders of what truly mattered. 

After a few interminable minutes, Maria and Bucky both came to a stop, and Steve halted along with them. When he peeked up, he could see Robin Roberts off to the side on a dais, interviewing a luminescent Daisy Ridley. "You good?" Maria murmured, glancing back at him.

Steve nodded, even though he didn't think he could make a sound if his life depended on it. Beside him, Bucky brushed a kiss to his jaw, the caress light, but potent. "I love you so fucking much," Bucky whispered. "And no matter what, I'm proud as hell of you. Tonight and every night."

Steve ducked his head and captured Bucky's lips for a hard, long kiss. Poured every ounce of his own love and devotion into it, hoping Bucky would know, without words, just how grateful and awed Steve was that they were together. That Bucky'd chosen to build a life with him, when he had all of the options in the world available to him. They were both slightly breathless when they parted.

"I'd yell at you for the PDA, but what's the point," Maria lamented, even though Steve could tell she wasn't really upset. "Robin's waiting."

Showtime. Steve swallowed, clung tight to Bucky's hand, and walked with him up the dais. At least Steve was used to the bright stage lights and rolling cameras. Maybe if he just pretended this was a role he was playing, he could get through this.

"I must say, this is the highest and most unexpected of honors," Robin said, greeting them both with a wide, dazzling smile. "I'm proud to have former Oscar nominee _and_ winner, Steve Rogers, and his Pulitzer-Prize winning husband, James Barnes, joining us. Gentlemen, how are you?"

Steve's breath caught in his throat, trapped like butterfly wings against a net. He couldn't do this, couldn't –

Bucky gave his fingers a surreptitious squeeze and returned Robin's smile. "We're doing great, Robin, thanks for asking. Hard not to, on such a beautiful night."

"Indeed it is," Robin replied, and eyed Steve inquisitively. "Steve, your film, _Brooklyn: A Love Story_ , one that you co-wrote _and_ directed, and is based on your own personal history with the man standing next to you, is nominated for eight Academy Awards tonight, including Best Director and Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, not to mention your two brilliant lead actors are competing against each other for Best Actor. Your directorial debut, _Code Red_ , was also nominated for several Oscars two years ago. What's your secret?"

Mercifully, Steve's larynx loosened up enough for him to speak. "Well, I...I don't really – I mean, I –"

Bucky once again came to Steve's rescue. He patted Steve right on the chest, just over the scar on his breastbone, letting the touch linger. Letting Steve know he had this. "That's my Stevie," Bucky said, with a fond gaze in Steve's eyes. "Modest for days, but luckily for him, I know just how hard he worked during the writing process and pre-production and filming _and_ the post-production on both films. He had such a great team around him and it was a real joy to have this inside look at the process and the collaboration that goes into making a movie. It was an honor to get that glimpse behind the curtain and see a true master at work."

"Steve, your husband is quite the charmer."

"Yeah, he is." Steve was sure he had to be wearing the most ridiculously sappy look on his face, but he didn't care. Bucky was the best thing on the planet, and he'd fight anyone who tried to say different.

"Robin, let me ask you something, if I may." Bucky leaned slightly in her direction, body language loose and relaxed, like he and Robin were chatting over watered down drinks at a party, instead of live streaming to an audience of millions.

"Of course."

"How do you do it?" Bucky made a motion that seemed to encompass the crowds and insanity and noise. "It's got to be exhausting standing here in those heels – which look amazing, don't get me wrong – asking the same questions to every nominee. How do you keep things fresh and interesting? How do you keep from getting bored?"

Steve watched in fascination as Robin let out a throaty chuckle, and batted at Bucky's arm. "Well, it's not easy, but I imagine you have the same concerns when you're sent off to interview one of your subjects. How do you dig underneath the surface to find those small kernels of truth and connection?"

"Exactly. It's a struggle every time, but you make it look effortless. No, I mean it, you do, and I don't think reporters like you get enough credit for the work you do, so let me be the first one to say thank you," Bucky said, with a look of open sincerity on his face. "Thank you for remembering that the celebrities you interview – that people like my husband – are real people with feelings, that they're human beings worthy of respect."

"Thank you, Bucky, that's...that's an incredibly kind thing of you to say," Robin replied, visibly touched. "I wish you both the best of luck tonight."

"Thank you," Steve managed to murmur, then Bucky was urging him off the dais, and as quick as that, it was all over.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Bucky told him, with a small, pleased smile. Just seeing it settled the last of Steve's worries.

"Yeah, but only because you decided to interview _her_ instead," Steve remarked, with a rueful laugh. "I'd call you the Troll to end all Trolls, but I'm not sure you'd take it as an insult."

Bucky just reeled him in for a short, heated kiss. "Flattery like that will _definitely_ get you laid later on tonight."

Steve let out a small, pained whimper. "C'mon, don't tease me like that. We've got a long night ahead of us."

"I know." Bucky slid his arms around Steve's waist, pulled him close until they were flush together. "But the worst is over. Now we can just relax and enjoy ourselves and celebrate your film."

" _Our_ film," Steve corrected, wrapping his own arms around Bucky. "It's just as much yours as mine."

"Fine, our film," Bucky replied, and those beautiful blue-grey eyes of his lit up. "And if anyone else tries to get too close, just let me take care of it."

"You always did know how to defend me better than I did," Steve remarked. He could see Maria waiting patiently for them a few steps away, but he wasn't in any hurry to leave the circle of Bucky's arms.

"That's because you were too busy defending the entire world to remember that you also needed it." Bucky gave him another quick kiss. "I'm always gonna have your back, babe. No matter what."

"No matter what," Steve echoed, his heart achingly full.

Bucky gave him another small, private smile. "C'mon. Let's get inside and find our seats."

"Okay," Steve said happily. Whatever happened during the ceremony, Steve already knew he'd won the biggest prize of them all. They walked hand in hand inside the theatre, fingers laced together, shoulders brushing with every step. United, as always, best friends forever. A team.

And when Steve won the Oscar for Best Director, Bucky and that big, dimpled smile that was all Steve's, was the only thing Steve saw when he was up on stage giving his speech:

 

 _"Making_ Brooklyn: A Love Story _was truly a team effort. I want to thank Darcy Lewis for co-writing an amazing script, and James Schamus and everyone over at Focus Features for backing the project, and my phenomenal cast and crew – I'm honored to share this award with you. But, I couldn't have done any of it without the support and guidance and love from my husband, James Barnes. You all know the story – it's up there on the screen for everyone to see – but what none of you know is Buck's been my rock my entire life. Even during the years we were separated, he was that shining light guiding my steps. So, I'd like to dedicate this award to my true better half in every way, the person who stood up for me when no one else would, who stood_ by _me when no one else saw me, the man who makes me want to be a better one every single day._

_Bucky, thank you for coming back to me, and for saying yes. I love you so much."_

**Author's Note:**

> Brooklyn: A Love Story  
> Best Picture – Won  
> Best Director – Won  
> Best Actor – Nominated  
> Best Actor – Nominated  
> Best Adapted Screenplay – Nominated  
> Best Editing – Won  
> Best Cinematography – Nominated  
> Best Original Song – Won  
> ___________
> 
> All the thanks ever to [Boop](http://boopifer.tumblr.com) for the great beta and advice!!!
> 
> You can now find me on [Tumblr](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com)!


End file.
